I just typed up a mildly worded letter to the head of the church council regarding the pastor’s propensity for inappropriate conversational topics and requesting his involvement.  My hand was shaking (you know, more than it usually does) when I handed it to him.   I don’t know why.  I guess it’s that I really don’t want to hurt the pastor’s feelings and I also really don’t want to make my job suck more than it usually does.  Fingers crossed.

Have I ever told you how fond I am of the church council chair?  I am.  He’s the drummer in the praise team.  Twenty odd years ago he married the very wildest daughter of a sweet church couple.  He was a semi professional drummer with feeathered earrings and feathered hair.  She was bleached blonde, a little bit into coke, and a lot into frosted eyeshadow.   Slowly but surely, they crept their way into church.  He’s the chair of the church council.  She’s the leader of the youth group.  Their son is studying to be a pastor.  Their daughter lent me her name for a food drive.  The kids have dyed emo hair.  The boy has tattoos he’s sure to regret by this time next year.  But they’re kind people, generous and funny, who believe firmly and act conscientiously.  Oh, and the father in the family?  Still has a tiny trace of a mullet.